


I’m A Stitch Away

by cheesehunter



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Cute, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fantasy, Fluff, Fluffy, Furies, Fury, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Peterick, Supernatural Creatures, Sweet, TW: suicidal thoughts, Wing Kink, Wings, all sad tho, for like one chapter i think, idk not really tho, it’s not like, not furries, probably, s o f t, tw: suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-03-22 13:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13765440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesehunter/pseuds/cheesehunter
Summary: “Leave the powerful weapon that is realism behind for you will not need it when stepping into this realm. Spread your wings and stand tall, let no man or woman corrupt you for you are stronger than love and lust. Humans are unimportant and most of all, mortal, overemotional, pitiful, don’t grow fond of them. “ They’d told Patrick. And then, he’d gone on earth and done the exact opposite.Also, Pete’s high key into Patrick’s wings and no, that’s not weird. Let me live.





	1. I : Winnin Only Below The Waist

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve changed quite a few things just so that this story would work so please put aside everything you know about the characters and make up your own age gaps/ages/whatever. 
> 
> Uhh yeah thanks
> 
> Please comment I’m a ho for them, positive or negative I don’t care
> 
> Obviously this is fiction.

Studying political science had never been his dream, in all honesty. It was his fathers, and his grandfather’s before him, it was a family legacy, but one Pete didn’t want. At all. Being truthful, what Pete truly enjoyed were things most people couldn’t take him seriously whenever he spoke about them. They thought he was kidding when he said he wanted to study letters, or maybe music, or maybe not even study at all, just hang out at those punk bars down the streets where, every now and then, a particularily goth-looking kid would show up with the darkest poetry your mind can imagine.

Maybe, in an other life, he’d studied culinary arts or something and would have started his own bar, just for the sake of listening to the kids screaming and singing about the stuff they were really passionate about. Though some might argue, Pete really thought it was a form of art, of sorts. There was a lot of passion in the way they growled in the mic about politics, violence.. sometimes it was skate, and then it was stupid, prepubescent and immature, still a good time. Other times it was horror, and then it was edgy, it was devilocks and gore. One time, there was even a queercore band. Okay, that was more rare, but he still liked it. There was something about the life that glowed underneath all these people’s skins, no matter the color, no matter the orientation. A passion that brought them together, united them.

In comparison, the boring college classes seemed so dead. The teacher would just repeat the same words over and over, where students either desperate to be rich and famous or looking to please their parents, listened as they doodled lazily whatever they thought was important. Things they’d forget about later. Later would come soon enough. Later would be the end of the session, the exams. Tests that, by the way, didn’t have anything to do with any of the theorical bullshit. Really, school got very old, very quick for the young outcast that stood somewhere between a metalhead and a punk.

At least now, the kids around him didn’t make fun of him and he could stay on the down low because honestly, no one really cared. They all had more important shit to do. Like passing their classes. Getting their american-dream lives, that would probably end up like american nightmare divorces and sofas out the window.

That was yet another thing he and his parents didn’t get to a consensus on. The true reason why he’d moved. He had the money and his parents were being asses all the time about him getting a girl, a rich, nice looking woman he could marry later and finally settle down with.

Pete didn’t want that. Pete didn’t care too much for romantic love, a thing he’d never felt for anyone before, but he cared even less for marriage. The whole idea of paying lots of money to make something official, something that would probably end in a few years anyway, was stupid, in his opinion.

That doesn’t really matter, now, does it? He sighed and reluctantly tucked the papers back into his “ things I don’t even know why I’m keeping”.

It didn’t matter now.

He’d never get a career and he’d never get a girlfriend, and he’d never get married and get a house and four kids to run around him and tug at his sleeve.

It didn’t matter now.

He was even worse than a high school drop out.

He was a college drop out.


	2. II: Like A Jump In Another Dimension

It all happened when Pete was making himself eggs as he shamelessly headbanged to Britney Spears on the stereo, trying to forget the fact that he was never getting back into the tall brick building that could’ve provided him with a diploma and granted him the official access to the real world, the adult world.

Oh, his father wouldn’t be happy hearing about this.

He shook the thought away, letting it slip and smiled to himself as the coffee boiled in the espresso machine.

At least he could cook, kind of.

That’s when he’d heard it, a loud, really loud thump, like something falling from really high onto the roof of his house.

Quickly, Pete turned off the element for the pan and ran outside, wondering if fucking aliens had landed on his roof or something. When he opened the door, surprise is an understatement for what he felt. A live human with bird wings was standing there in front of him.

The creature was pale, but its skin wasn’t diaphane, it was dressed in a red suit, wide, golden wings fluffing up their own feathers. It had blue eyes and soft looking lips, not full but definitely nice to look at. It also seemed to have an ethereal, pale blue glow to it.

“ Dude, you’re like, a fucking angel!” Was the first thing to escape Pete’s mouth, eyes comically wide and eyebrows way up his forehead. “ Dude, that’s so cool!”

The ethereal being frowned, turning its head to this side. “ I— No?”

“ My bad! You’re like, a banshee!”

“ Is my voice really _that_ whiny?” The being interrogated, raising one eyebrow. “ I’m actually a Fury.”

“ A furry?! Oh my god, like a bird furry!?”

“ No, you dumb mortal, like a Fyu-ree, you know, when you do something wrong? Remorse and all that?”

“ Oh! The thing from greek class! Wait, but that’s a myth... I mean, I’ve never seen one of you before.. “

“ We’re not exactly supposed to introduce ourselves, but then again, it’s not every day that we fail the landing and dumb mortals come see what the fuck is up. “ The mythological creature rolled its eyes, its wings spreading like a cat stretching before coming back to their place.

“ Wowow dude, stop calling me dumb, it’s not nice. “ The human replied with a shit-eating grin before adding. “ Well, if you’re here to make me feel like crap, let’s get to know each other! Come in, let’s have a coffee.”

With the way its assigned human was acting, the Fury felt as if Pete was the supernatural being instead of him. So weird, so different from normal, so _not_  like your stereotypical evil guy. “ Aren’t you weirded out? You’re just gonna invite me in?”

“ I mean.. It _is_ weird but I bet it’s just one of my weird dreams. Whatever dude just come in.” The black-haired guy moved from his spot, allowing the other in. “ Or don’t if you’re scared I might kill you or whatever. Not that I kill people often. I mean I’ve never killed anyone. I think of us both you’re the most dangerous though, like you’ve got wings and shit. I’ve got... I’ve got killer taste in music. Back at it with the murders, Pete. I’m sorry, I’m just kind of lonely in general so I kind of talk to myself? Weirdo, I know. Hey! We don’t all have friends alright.” 

Honestly, the bird-like humanoid wasn’t even listening at this point, just looking around at the small, but not exactly humble abode that was Pete’s. It was all part of a apartment complex that honestly looked a lot more like a motel since it was only one story. 

When Pete saw the mysterious creature wasn’t following, he simply lead the way into the kitchen, it promptly did the same.

“ You drink coffee?”

At the sound of the caffeinated drink, the creature’s eyes glistened. 

“ ...Sure..”

Furies usually get assigned to dangerous people, like murderers, or people in the mafia, so the masculine being was really confused at to why he’d been assigned to this person who, in theory, was completely harmless.

They talked and sipped on coffee the whole afternoon. Well, to be honest, Pete talked and talked and talked, some kind of strange energy animating him, his warm whiskey eyes lighting up whenever he babbled about music. The Fury.. well, the Fury stared at him, studying the weird being.

“ Patrick” it said, at some point “ My name is Patrick.”


	3. III: Things You Can’t Do

Pete had quite the surprise when he realized the events from the day before hadn’t been a dream. After a restless night, he’d walked into the kitchen to get himself a coffee and the winged creature was sitting there, waiting and observing the sky as the sun rose. It was truly beautiful the way soft oranges reflected on the pale being’s skin, and the human was taken aback a little bit.

Patrick learned very soon that Pete couldn’t do quite an array of things.

1\. Calm down

Sometimes the human would get into this mood where he was excited about something and talk about it for hours and hours, ranting about all the great things about it. At first, Patrick had nodded along and tried to direct the conversation somewhere more interesting, or well, at the very least to something he was more knowledgable of, but he soon learned that it was impossible. One of Pete’s flaws is that he just, wanted to talk about that thing, all the time, for a long amount of time. He didn’t really care what other people thought of it. He loved it!

2\. Sleep

The guy was especially bad at this one, he literally had no sleep schedule, he could be up until four am or knocked out at five pm and there was no in between. The Fury had learned to just roll with it. Whenever Pete woke, that’s when he started torturing him. When he’d first told the outcast he was _actually_ there to torture him, the human had laughed quite alot. Something like:

“ So, I’m basically here to punish you for your wrongs.”

“ Oh... with the whips and all? Mh, punish me sir. “ He’d joked, wiggling his eyebrows and literally just making fun of the other.

  
But no, the actual torture consisted of speaking the most bitter of words towards Pete, guilt tripping him all day, basically. Other humans didn’t have the ability to see the Fury, so he could go anywhere Pete Wentz (ha i hate myself).

Pete usually countered to his guilt-inducing words with snarky, smart-ass-y replies.  
  
3\. Stop lowkey flirting for one goddamn second

No, for real though, the guy was constantly hitting on him, but with really, really weird compliments. Things like “ wow, you’re the prettiest bird I’ve ever seen.” Yeah, actually weird compliments.

Even though Patrick had told the other guy to stop. Multiple times. Because it’s weird and it’s not even real compliments and both of them are straight anyway, Pete just,, wouldn’t drop it.

To be true, Patrick was a beautiful creature, the prettiest thing Pete had ever laid his eyes on, and when Pete likes something, he can’t stop ranting about it.

Lately, though, Pete’s energy seemed a little lower for some reason, and Patrick just couldn’t seem to figure out why.


	4. IV: What Doesn’t Kill You

Frankly, when Pete dropped out, it wasn’t so that everyone would hate him or something, and so far, he’d been pretty okay with the fact he’d done it. Like, he had time, and though he knew he’d eventually run out of money, that didn’t preoccupy him right now. When his father learned about it, though, oh boy..

So he’d been on the phone with him for approximately two hours an a half and the guy was just angrily ranting about how much he’d just fucked his life over, about how much of a waste of time, space and energy he was, and it wasn’t exactly raising Pete’s already not great self-esteem. It wasn’t anything... like, let’s be honest, it was the truth, just, this was not a great time to hear it. When finally — _finally_ — Pete was able to hang up, he didn’t feel good.

His chest was tight, constricted, breathing ragged, lip bleeding from biting it, which he only realized when he felt the trickle of blood down his chin. He took a deep breath and despite all the self-control he’d shown during the phone call, hurled his phone across the room (thank god for Nokia Bricks) and let his body fall on the ground, which admittedly hurt his ass. Tears sprung at Pete’s eyes, tears the human couldn’t hold back. His face was turned into the Niagara falls in less time than it takes to say “ poodle”, his hands were reassigned to the sole purpose of tugging at his hair with such strength and harshness that it felt like the strands of black would rip off, his chest was a speaker set at maximum volume from which emerged the sounds of someone who isn’t quite right.

Maybe he was kind of a failure after all.

Today wasn’t a bad day though, and after quite the extent of time freaking out on his bedroom floor, the guy pulled himself together, like one would sew back together a rag doll broken apart by a petulant child. He fixed his hair, dried the ocean, changed his shirt, took a deep breath and let it fill him, reminding himself that he was no longer 16, he could no longer just feel sorry for himself, he wasn’t getting anything out of worrying, though he’d be right to worry.

Naturally, when Patrick found him ( Patrick who had been taking a little walk around the neighbourhood), the human was fine, no signs of his previous breakdown obvious to anyone, not even the supernatural creature.

“ Hey, ‘Trick, wanna go to a punk show?” The guy had offered, natural as ever, and the Fury, who had no idea what punk or a show were, was curious to discover, though technically, that went against all commandments.


	5. V: I Took Her Out, It Was A Friday Night

Much to Pete’s suprise, Patrick had actually agreed to going to the show with him. It was a small venue, it smelled like shit and everyone was sweaty and hot, pressed up against each other. Patrick, an entity only existing in Pete’s world, in a way, occupied no real space in the venue, but people didn’t stand where he stood though he didn’t actually exist in the material plane.

The Fury stood warm and solid against Pete’s back, observing interestedly the show. The human was one second away from jumping into the pit, his father’s words long forgotten by then. The pits were always attractive to him and the only reason he wasn’t diving right into them tonight was not to leave the Fury alone. He still had a good time though, and couldn’t help the wide, adorable smile on his face when the winged creature expressed positive feelings towards the show. It was really nice having Patrick’s validation. Eventually, of course, they had to go home, and none of them wanted to.

Afterwards, it came crashing down though, all together at ungodly hours of the morning.

So far, Patrick had never assisted to one of these, but he’d get his cherry popped that night.

All the Fury knew about the human’s sleeping habits is that he woke up pretty early and got in bed late at night, but somehow he knew something was wrong when Pete got a glass of water at four in the morning, looking well, not like someone who just woke up. As the supernatural being didn’t need to sleep, he basically just.. paid attention to the things surrounding him.

As Pete’s lips touched the rim of the glass, he couldn’t hold it back anymore, his eyes becoming, once again, infinite sources of salt water.

“ What is it?” Patrick asked tentatively, not knowing how to act. He was worried, sure, but also he’d never seen a human cry, he could tell there was sadness and bad feelings in it but he didn’t... he couldn’t comprehend.

Pete kind of just shook his head, drying his tears quickly. “ It’s just a post-show thing. It’s pretty common, don’t worry about it.” He replied, chuckling awkwardly, and that smile alone was good enough to reassure Patrick completely.

“ Wasn’t planning on it.” Patrick lied, kind of playful smile on his lips, to which Pete replied with a mirrored grin.

“ Goodnight, pretty boy. “ The human said softly before grazing Patrick’s wings with his fingertips, and oh, oh fuck, okay.

“ Don’t.” Patrick said, warning in his voice as he watched the boy go, wings quickly folding.


	6. VI : Flipside

Trigger warning: suicide related stuff, stay safe

There was no way he could’ve predicted it. There was truly no way he could’ve predicted it.

Everything had been fine during the week, or so it seemed. Pete had actually started doing stuff for the first time in a while, he was cleaning up and opening windows and blasting music. He’d been cooking, laughing, inviting friends over. It was almost like he was too cheerful, though, the angel-like being thought to himself, there’s no such thing as too much happiness.

The human wasn’t supposed to be feeling good, not with Patrick constantly reminding him of how much he sucked whenever they were alone. The Fury truly was good at his job, never skipped a day. He wasn’t even sure what he was reproaching Wentz, but he needed to do it, it was his mission. Sometimes, though, Patrick felt like maybe it wasn’t completely justified. Like, for once, the Olympus might have gotten this one wrong. Like Pete couldn’t possibly be guilty of any major crime.

The Fury wasn’t there to question though, or to protect humans, he was only there to torture them.

Most of the times, Pete just tuned him out and nodded along to his monologue about how bad of a man he was.

Most of the times it wasn’t good enough to get Pete’s confident grin off his face, and honestly the cockiness possessed by the human pissed the supernatural being off.

Except for the time it didn’t.

And on second thought, maybe he could have predicted.

Because there is such a thing as too cheerful.

Because Pete had walked in that day slumped over and looking like three week’s worth of sadness had just crashed onto him.

Because he’d begged him “ no, not tonight, please.” when Patrick started ranting about his hate for Pete.

Because his eyes were teary and desperate, because there was no cocky grin, because there was no way that this was right.

Because in his trembling hands he was holding the last proof of the male’s life.

He let his body collapse, a sob ripping from his chest. He wasn’t supposed to have grown attached to the guy, he wasn’t supposed to feel sorry for him.

“ No!” Patrick’s voice had yelled, angry tears rolling down his cheeks and staining the paper from which could be read

‘ I guess I just made your job a thousand times easier. ‘

and

‘ not like you’d miss me anyway.’

And shit, Pete was so _so_ wrong because at this precise moment, as Patrick recalled Pete’s first word to him “ Dude, you’re like a fucking angel!” he laughed with irony. No angel would ever let someone like this guy die. The Fury already missed Pete’s laugh-crinkled eyes and omnipresent smile.

His eyes travelled to the corpse in front of him a nausea took over.

This isn’t how the story ends. This isn’t how the story ends. No.

Pete looked so goddamned lifeless and Patrick just wanted him back right now.


	7. VII: Where Did I Go Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, it takes a specific mood for me to write stuff like this and honestly i didn’t want to get in it but hey here you go. huge trigger warning for suicide, it’s pretty descriptive so like, don’t read it if you feel like it might, ya know.. stay safe buddies

 

This was like an endless dark pit, and Pete had been falling down it for the past few weeks. Between his father’s criticism, Patrick constantly bugging him and his own brain, plus the lack of an actual friend to talk to about all this stuff and previously existent issues in his head, it just... drove him insane.

The amount of hours he spent thinking of it, thinking of how to do it to a gruesome detail, hoping -- oh, someone help him — people would miss him, because that’s what he got off on, the appreciation, the attention. He just wanted to be loved, and he was getting none of it, and he was spiralling down, he just couldn’t take it. He spent his nights tossing and turning, venom-laced words echoing in his mind, and “ disappointment”, constantly.

Everything Pete did was bad. Everything he did, every decision he took, every word he spoke was the wrong one, he shouldn’t have done this, he should have finished that.

All he wanted to finish was his life, honestly.

It brought him a sense of sheer relief and pure euphoria knowing it would be tonight. No longer would the world bare the excruciating weight of his existence. Oh, life would be so much better for everyone else, and guilty, filthy, rotten parts of his mind rejoiced in the knowledge his parents would feel so bad, and they wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Just cry.

But most of his mind, most of his mind kind of worried about them when he wasn’t too busy feeling sorry for himself. Of course, the whole world hated him, but what if his mom missed him?

Nah. Impossible.

This last week had been good, in a way. It was tying up whatever loose ends he was able to tie up, leaving everything as clean and good as possible, making sure the house would be in an okay state in case his friends wanted to visit or something.

Not that he thought Joe was that much of a morbid weirdo.

Maybe Dirty.

And then finally, it was sitting at a desk for hours, it was having a deep dive in his thoughts, digging out words like pulling his veins out with solely his blunt fingernails, and then tugging a bit more out of pure masochism. He wanted to leave a few words for every one that mattered, but he wrote them on paper, so if he failed tonight — and god forbid he failed — he wouldn’t have the awkward conversation of “ yo, why’d you send that text at like three in the morning? “ or even worse, getting hospitalized and being unable to act upon his darkest desires.

And so the moment came.

The drop out had a tired smile as he ran himself a bath, and okay, maybe this was a terribly selfish way to go, leaving the corpse for Patrick to take care of, but Patrick was a supernatural creature, Pete was sure he could figure something out.

He carefully left the letter with Patrick’s name on it on the counter, looking at himself in the mirror one last time and poking at his abs, laughing slightly before it turned to tears.

“ Goddamn, you are drop dead pretty.” He said to his reflexion, which pulled a weird wince. “ Wouldn’t have said it better.” The reflexion replied ( not really, it was Pete all along).

And then he grabbed the other thing from the counter, feeling it agaist his palm and sighing. Overdramatic way to go.

He sat in the tub, closed his eyes and did it, and he yelled, really fucking loud, and he’d missed it but it was pouring out regardless. His vision was getting blurry.

And he fell.

And he fell.

And he fell.


	8. VIII: The Best Part Of Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Previous chapter was pretty heavy emotionally and maybe too descriptive for comfort so I’m gonna try my very best to make this one in the optic of not directly talking about it so we can both be more comfortable with the content. Anyway, enjoy i guess. I’m not saying trigger warning for suicide because I’m going to avoid describing as much as possible but i will mention it so, heads up, mentions of suicide attempt. Once again, stay safe.

The thing about attempting to do something is basically in the name itself, it’s an attempt, there’s no certainty as to whether it’s going to work or not. Now, let’s learn a little about Furies;

(This is my fic, therefore my twist on these mythological creatures.)

They all own a force called the glow, it’s trapped beneath their skin, making them appear more powerful and intimidating. It gives them several other features, like the ability to be inexistent to humans other than the one they’re assigned to, the ability to find out whether someone’s lying or not by touching their lips ( more awkward than you’d think. Breaks a lot of hearts. ) and last but not least, to stay alive without getting older. A little like in _The Picture Of Dorian Grey,_  their glow makes them stay young and most importantly, stay fit. Furies, on earth, since they have mostly human traits, would, without it, die within a span of a hundred years from their birth, a lot like a human. The glow is like a mobile device, assuming The Olympus is a charging station, so whenever they’re done with their mission and go officially tell the major deities about their accomplishment, their glow is fully restored. On the downside, using magic takes power from their glow, therefore, they cannot live very long as magical entities if they plan to settle down on earth. One or the other.

Another interesting property of the glow is that, ripped away from a magical creature, it is simply life strength.

Now, Patrick had never tried anything like this, but he’d heard of it, and it hadn’t taken that long to convince him, really. He’d read the letter. It was.. painful. It described him as an angel, though Patrick had made it clear he wasn’t one. It described him also as a torture of sorts, a torture Pete couldn’t quite understand why he was being sent, but he probably deserved. This sentence alone made Patrick’s heart pinch. Maybe it had to do with the fact there was a dead body in the room. Who knows.

He was a second away from throwing up but this wasn’t about him, this was so /not/ about him. And so, thinking of all the people that would miss Pete ( and there would be a lot, Patrick had come to discover he was actually really kind ), and in comparison, the people who would miss him ( Furies are loners ), he decided it would be worth it.

If the Fury was doing the math right, he would have about a week left to live, and in exchange, Pete was getting a brand new life, a chance at not fucking up. Bonus points; Patrick would stop burdening him, and The Olympus would probably just stop torturing him once they knew Patrick’s glow survived in his carnal enveloppe. Why? Because destroying magic is impossible, it can only be freed, and setting magic free on earth would be disastrous, and trying to bring a human in any different dimension would most likely shatter his body and free the magic somewhere between planes, which would not be good either.

“ It’s just about perfect. “ Patrick thought to himself, watching the wounds heal and the blood reabsorb in some weird way, as if he were turning back time. He coud feel his body slowly draining, his hands become shakier by the second, but also, his feelings feeling... more.. real?

His fingertips were pressing to Pete’s temples, blowing life into him.

And that’s when he knew he was doing the right thing.


	9. IX: But Me, I’m Just The Covers On Top Of Your Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Floof. More ansgt soon bc i suck at writing fluff. Uhyeah enjoii.

 

When Pete opened his eyes, he felt... weird. Really weird. Like, in a good way but weird nonetheless. He frowned as his gaze was met with the ceiling of his room. What? Had it all just been a nightmare? Looking down at his arm, he noticed no scar, and he wasn’t at a hospital so no one could’ve possibly taken him there. Who would anyway? It’s not like Patrick would suddenly appreciate him just because he tried to,, yknow,, haven’t you noticed that this isn’t every stereotypical emo fanfiction?

He took a deep breath and his chest felt... light? There was no way to explain the feeling, really, it felt like all of his worries had evaporated all at once, he felt strong, stronger than the problems.

And then Pete turned his head and was met with a really really soft, fuzzy blanket tickling his face. No wait, that’s not a blanket, those are... wings? Is he in heaven? No wait, Patrick!

What the fuck. Had he slept with the guy? Nah, they were both clothed. Why would they have slept together anyway, stop.

The human propped himself on his elbow, looking at the creature beside him admittedly a little bit terrified. Patrick didn’t look... good. He was... sleeping and crying? Pete had never seen him cry or sleep, he didn’t even think the creature was able to.

Gently, Pete reached to wipe away a stray tear from the Fury’s cheek. He understood fuck all of what was going on. The skin beneath his own rough fingertips felt soft, almost velvety, a bit like the boy’s wings, which, by the way, as soon as the human was sure the guy was asleep and not just kind of laying there with his eyes shut, he started caressing with utmost delicacy. They were possibly the softest thing Pete had ever touched and every now and then, they would twitch a little bit under his soft touches.

This went on until he accidentaly tugged on a feather.

“ Motherfucker!” Patrick exclaimed, jumping and suddenly very awake, his eyes bloodshot and — oh my god why did he look so miserable. And then, the Fury saw the human and an indescriptible emotion flashed in his eyes before his arms (and wings) were wrapped around him protectively. “ God! You’re a fucking idiot! I hate you!”

“ Contradictory messages, Patrick, please be clear, I’m not good at reading them.”

But despite the bone-crushing hug and mildly insulting sentence, Pete felt warm and safe, and honestly? Kind of happy.

At the same time, after some rather comfortable silence, they blurted out;

“ Why did you try to kill yourself?! “

And

“ Why were you crying?!”

The both of them looked at the other, frowning, Patrick’s wings going back to behind his back and Pete a little sad to admit he missed the feel of them around him.

“ I was crying? “ Patrick asked, puzzled, as he touched his face to find out that, indeed, he had been crying. “ I didn’t think— mh. I don’t know. You answer me. “ he demanded.

“ I— Uh.. it’s complicated. Why am I not dead anyway? “

“ Because I saved you, and by saving you I basically transferred my life to you and I only have one week left so I think I deserve to know what the fuck is so complicated that it makes you want to end it.”

Pete’s eyes widened. “ Wait.. What? You gave your life for me? Nonononono what kind of fucking idiot are you!? You’re a blessing to this world, I’m a curse, you can’t do this. You can’t fucking— no. “

This has got to be a nightmare.

“ Yes. Yes I can. Accept it. “ he said in a commanding voice, and honestly, he wasn’t expecting what happened next. The human didn’t argue, he just hung his head.

Pete was a shaking mess, and now the both of them were crying.

“ I didn’t— I’m sorry, this is all my fault.” The human said softly, a little sob racking through his body.

“ It is.” The Fury replied “ But it’s also mine. I should’ve seen it coming and I should’ve stopped for a while. What’s your crime anyway? No one seems to know what you’ve done wrong. “

“ I don’t know. “ Pete replied truthfully, and as he threw himself forward, hiding his face in Patrick’s soft chest, crying against it, Patrick couldn’t help but to stop asking these questions that seemingly only made the other sadder and wrap around him protectively again. Hey, he needed to know what made Pete,,,, but at the same time, he could wait. A little. 

Patrick only had one week left, but as he let his fingers dig into the boy’s skull, gently massaging it and feeling the human relax under his touch, muttering broken apologies and thank you’s he knew that he’d never felt more alive because now, he felt. The Fury felt his heart /ache/ and he felt his eyes tear up and he felt a smile come onto his lips as Pete nuzzled against him sleepily and these were things he’d never experienced before. 


	10. X: Show You The Light

It was the second time Patrick woke up, in his whole life. The more he thought about it, the more he hated the idea of it. While it might sound very romantic in theory— an angel-like being, fluttering its eyes open in the soft morning glow, next to the one he oh-so-tragically gave up on his life to save— in practice, it was just a grumpy-ass man that soon discovered he really couldn’t stand the sudden and completely random light invading the inside of his eyes when he was just starting to wake up. It was so bad, he just wanted to bury his head into the pillow ( that smelled good, surprisingly, cheap cologne, coffee and shampoo mix well ) and sleep more, but of course, that was impossible because forget about going back to slumber once you’re awake.

But anyway, the thing is, Patrick didn’t wake up sad, he woke up annoyed, sure, at the sun for being in his face, but not annoyed by the imminency of his death, no, that didn’t bother him. He woke up liberated, free. He woke up with he certitude that whatever he did from now on would be the right thing, they couldn’t punish him more than with death and he was going to die anyway, so he could do anything!

Surprisingly, Pete, who, of course, was upset by the whole situation, overcame his anger, confusion and hurt once the Fury said a few, simple words:

“ C’mon, dude, don’t fight me, I only have _one_ week left. Take me _places_! I wanna see the world!”

And well, Pete had always been a “let’s go outside and then we’ll figure out where we’re headed” kind of guy, so he kind of just smiled weirdly and dragged Patrick along.

Now, the Fury usually living in a place literally very far away from this dimension, he didn’t consider himself a fashion _critique_ , but he could tell Pete definitely **stood out** in a crowd, and well.. people stared at him a lot, and the human just went about with his life.

Mostly, he was so concentrated in his new mission of Taking Patrick Places that he didn’t even notice it. Their eyes didn’t weigh as heavy on his shoulders now that he didn’t care.

Straying from the subject here, are we? Yeah, kind of. Anyway, the thing is, the supernatural creature had seen countless beautiful things, he’d seen temples of gold and platinum from where the most gorgeous ladies and the most handsome men ruled the world, he’d seen deities whose gender he couldn’t identify, for whom it didn’t really matter to be one thing or another, and who somehow possessed the beauty of all genders. He had seen golden dresses on perfect bodies, swallowing and hugging every curve and angle, he’d seen pure too, the most ethereal of all beauties, made of pale colors and suave feelings. He’d seen dirty, leathery and straight to the point, fiery, sinful and loving it. He’d seen what he thought were the prettiest things he’d ever lay his eyes on.

And what was not his surprise when what Pete chose as the “prettiest place on earth” was a ratty little alley, dim even at midday, smelly and humid. What was not his surprise when, before his very eyes he saw a sort of beauty no one had ever prepared him for..

Paintings, graffities, art, art decorated these brick walls, urban art with popping colors and bold shapes, the depiction of a fallen angel, wings torn apart but caring smile on his lips, eyes decorated with a glint of sadness but a bunch of gratitude. Behind him, the earth, a halo around his head, glowing with the light of the sun behind it, and all around it, signatures, things neither of them could really read.

It wasn’t somptuous, golden or platinum, but it certainly was breathtaking.

 


	11. XI: Unplanned Parenthood Of Bizarre Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late ass update

The second day of Patrick’s last week was pretty weird in a way. The thing is, since.. well... the Day.. Patrick had grown used to sleeping in Pete’s bed. Now, for the (ex-)fury, who knew little to none about human culture, this wasn’t weird. It was more comfortable, and warmer, and it allowed him to keep an eye of the guy. But for Pete, it was... so fucking weird. Not weird in a “ wow that’s gross” kind of way, no, weird in a.. different way. Like, now, in the mornings, he’d often find himself in the arms of the other male, one time it was because of his eternal tossing-turning-groaning-waking-himself-up-worrying thing, and Patrick, sick of it, had simply wrapped both arms firmly around the human and forced him to just, “ Stop fucking moving asshole you keep elbowing me in the ribs. “. And then later on “ Sorry for calling you an asshole. I don’t mean it... Asshole.” The other time, though, Pete had found himself _wanting_ the soft embrace, the additional warmth, the softness of feathers, the reassurance of someone beside you... and Patrick had caught him staring in the endless darkness of the room.

  
That’s another weird thing about the fury, he seemed to always catch anyone looking at him ( he was visible ever since he’d lost the glow ). His eyes were intense too, not exactly easy to look at, it was almost like just looking into the other male’s eyes, all of Pete’s deepest lies and secrets were unveiled and left out in the open for anyone to peek at.

Strangely, it didn’t feel all that weird and dangerous staring into the sky blues, it made the human feel sort of.. safe? Liked? Like despite all his biggest flaws, all his sins, all his wrong-doings, he could still be hung out with.

The weird part of this was that Pete had always crushed loud, quick and easy, like a car crashes into another car, like the tearing of paper, like the banging of a fist that destroys the wall in front of you. He always had crushed on sexy girls with big tits and nice asses, relatively smart, loyal, beautiful girls... also some players, but damn, were they hot. He always had crushed on who he was supposed to crush on, but this... this was starting to resemble a crush.

But then again, maybe he just felt sorry for the guy (rightfully so). Maybe Pete was just sad that Patrick had to leave.. well, die, in a few days. Maybe when he locked himself in the bathroom, his head in his hands and tears streaming down his cheeks, said hands shaky, fingers stuttering against the bathroom’s countertop, maybe then, as he weeped quietly, it was out of pure guilt and there was nothing associated with being fond of the guy. Of not wanting the world to lose something as beautiful as Patrick.

Pete tried not to think of it, and it certainly helped that the fury didn’t mention it, but he could see it in Patrick’s eyes, a glint of sadness, soon drowned by millions of liters of curiosity poured down on him by Pete and his human... humanity? but a glint of sadness nonetheless. Whether it was because of the fact he was soon going to disappear or the idea of having betrayed his rulers, it still saddened Pete to see the guy like this.

Today was special, today was even weirder, because Pete found himself staring into Patrick’s eyes, and Patrick staring back, and somehow, this time, he was able to handle all the intensity of the angel-like being’s gaze, found himself leaning in slightly, and Patrick, out of sheer curiosity, mimicked the actions.

Of course, soon, the human snapped out of it and awkwardly laughed, disguising his discomfort as if it had been some kind of prank, but it hadn’t been, and he couldn’t erase from his mind the way the gaze of the being penetrated him, tore him open, left him there, shaken, changed, wanting and dreaming but unable to cave in. 


	12. XII: Running Out Of Places To Escape My Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for never updating lmao, welcome, it’s here! 
> 
> I think my writing quality has been DECAYING and ROTTING but like,,,, ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ that won’t stop me from trying to write gay fluff

They didn’t really talk about it, there was no need, nothing had actually happened, there was nothing to talk about, or so Pete tried to convince himself in the following hours, blushing furiously every time his gaze met his friend’s. They went out and had breakfast, after all, the angel didn’t have a lifetime in front of him, just four days. Four days, that’s 96 hours or 5760 minutes, and that’s... a lot of minutes, but it isn’t a lot of time..

Oh look, two minutes just passed, 5758 left.

It stressed the human out. Usually, you don’t really know when someone’s gonna die. Sure you can have an approximation of the moment, like when someone’s deathly ill, you know they’re going to die soon, but this was different. This was different because every passing second felt like a loss of time, a wasted second that Patrick would never see again, and while neither would Pete, the human had so many more seconds to live than Stump. Millions of moments, of memories, millions of new scars to acquire from wild, stupid bets and.. Patrick only had a limited number of them, because of Pete.

The tension was at its apex as they watched that stupid romcom, Sixteen Candles. A classic though, funny, lovey-dovey, sweet, effective to take your mind off sad shit. The furie had his arms around the human, holding him close, a comforting, comfortable warmth between them, soft like silk, soft like Patrick’s hand barely grazing Pete’s neck each time he laughed. His laughter was an equally soft sound, envelopping both of them in a bubble wrap of safety and a sense of home the human hadn’t felt in years.

And Pete asked it, he’d had the guts to ask it..

“ Have you ever... like, been with someone? “

Patrick’s expression had taken a strange twist. “ I’m with you right now? “

“ No I mean, _been_  with someone. Like, in a relationship.. I mean it might not be your cup of tea, some people are aro or ace and aren’t interested in—..”

“ Oh you mean like, in this movie type of **being** with someone? “

“ Yeah like, liking each other and kisses and you know, cuddles... all that stuff?”

Patrick thought for a second, and then shook his head, smiling sadly.

“ Not really... but I’d have loved to..”

“ Aw man, I’m not letting you die a kiss virgin, let’s go to a bar or something, let’s go find you someone so you can exp—..”

Pete’s heart sped up so so so much when Patrick grabbed his head though, looking into his eyes, that sole action shutting him up for good. The furie bit his lower lip, smiling a little bit bittersweet as his eyes travelled down to the human’s mouth.

“ You won’t let me die a kiss virgin? “ Patrick then repeated, a little playful but on a questionning tone.

“ I won’t let you die a kiss virgin. “ Pete replied, repeating the sentence again.

“ Don’t let me die a kiss virgin then. “

It was quick, unsure but hoping to be right as the angel smashed his squishy, full lips again the othe male’s. It was like the bubble of peace they were in imploded violently, yet it wasn’t disagreeable, oh hell no. They were holding onto each other like they were each other’s lifeline, which is kind of ironic, Patrick’s hands delicate on Pete’s back whereas Pete’s were desperately tugging Patrick’s hair, like the action of kissing him alone hurt him to infinite extents, yet even then, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

“ God, I’m sorry, I don’t even know if you’re into—..”

“ Yeah.”

And it was right back to squashing and pressing, shoving and pulling, melding together like two warm substances, skin and bone the only barrier that kept their souls from mixing.

In the midst of all of this, at some point, the two fell asleep, Pete’s head nested in Patrick’s neck and the wings shielding the both of them from a power-hungry, violent, cold world, they were alone, but it was a pleasurable form of non-loneliness.

Pete didn’t think there was an antonym for the exact feeling of being alone, cold and sad, but this was it, he had no words for it, but it was beautiful. Long forgotten was the worry of the passing minutes, here in their crib where time seemed to have stopped altogether.


	13. XIII: Happy Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop, it was super fun to write this but I was gettin a little sick of it so here: thanks for reading and i hope u enjoyed it

Now, not all the stories end up like fairy tales, but this one does. Maybe it’s a little unoriginal, but hey, I’ve gotten you guys through 12 chapters, that’s around 7500 words, and I’m not motivated to write more of this as a fic, I’d rather write one shots about it. I also don’t like those stories where it’s like 36/? Chapters, updated like fourty years ago, so consider this a conclusion.

Oh, also, I hate sad endings.

Here we go.

Their limbs were entangled as the soft glow of the morning light hit them, it was cold, but under the covers, the warmth was omnipresent, the sun also providing with some of it. When Patrick opened his eyes, he knew. He knew he was supposed to be dead, he knew it because Pete had spent hours crying over his imminent death, panicking and trying to find a way to keep him, resignating and simply not expressing any feelings. He himself had spent a fair amount of time feeling sorry for himself, but... no. He was alive.

Patrick had no explanation for it, it didn’t quite feel like a miracle nor was it particularily normal, his wings were still attached to his back yet it felt like all the time spent at the olympus, despite having been the most of his life, was a weird, hazy dream. Like it hadn’t really happened.

For some reason, Patrick could remember with vivid clarity nights spent dancing with Pete close to him, body against body but not in a sexual way, only enjoying the moment as “Baby I Love You” and “Saturday Night” (by the Misfits not Panic! you fuckin emo) played on the stereo. He could remember them as if they had happened yesterday, but he could _not_ recall any of the details of the olympus. It didn’t matter though, he didn’t really miss it all that much, he had all he needed next to him.

Pete’s family was still not happy with the choice the human had taken concerning his studies and they’d made it pretty clear, but that didn’t matter all that much either, because there is time, that was a certainty. There is time for Pete, there is time for his family to fix itself, and it’s going to fix itself, Patrick was sure about that. Time fixes everything.

As Patrick ran his fingertips on the human’s cheek, he had the strange notion that there was time for him too, somehow. That life had decided he wasn’t done here.

It was a nice feeling.

He got up quietly, smiling and filled with renewed energy as he walked to the kitchen to make breakfast. If he was going to give Pete a surprise, he’d do it all the way.

_Pete was shaking, his arms tightly wrapped around his now boyfriend,_

_“You can’t leave, please, I’ll do anything, just stay.”_

_“ You know I want to stay, sweetie, I can’t “_

Patrick started making pancakes, humming softly to himself some Britney Spears song.

_“I can’t do this without you, I’ll fucking, I want out, Patrick! I can’t!”_

_“ So this whole thing was for nothing? I gave my life so you can just throw it away like that?”_

_Pete started crying even harder, his shakes amplifying along with his repeated apologies. Guilt blossomed at the bottom of the furie’s stomach. He didn’t really have a right to say this, not when he would leave the human at some point during the night._

Patrick added some chocolate chips in the pancakes, becaude he just _knew_  the other guy loved overly sweet things. He deserve it. The angel-like being still felt guilty about last night.

As soon as he was done with the pancakes, he slid them off to a plate and made some coffee, all this he’d learned being here, but he learned it incredibly fast. He, of course, added a ridiculous amount of sugar into Pete’s cup.

When he was done, he took both the plate and the cups, somehow managing to balance them on his arms and hands, and brought them into the room.

_It was like five in the morning when Pete finally fell asleep from the exhaustion of crying for so long. He’d made Patrick promise he’d hold him tight until the very last minute._

He left the cups and plate on the nightstand, crawling back in the bed beside the human and gently showering him with soft soft kisses.

“ Good morning, beautiful.”

Pete’s eyes watered as soon as he opened them, a loud gasp escaping his lips, tears of happiness soon streaming down his face.

“ Good morning angel. “ he managed out, crying and sobbing loudly into the boy’s chest, but this time, it would be okay.

Yeah, studying political science had never been his dream.

  
**THE END**

 

 


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